They smell the same, your woman and child, drenched in the sweet of milk and the salt of sweat. They look the same, curled into each other like a snail and its shell, on the shifting sands of the queen-sized bed. They breathe the same, their chests rising and falling, attuned to a single tide. They had seemed for a day, a moment, to be two, but really, they were always one. And you, adrift in the moon lit white, with no blanket, no pillow, only the weight of wondering, now, if it is you who is the plus one.
Photo Credit: Jesse van Kalmthout
Though I do not know it, I hear your voice speaking this.
I am in awe of your craft – of the imagery, emotion and magnificence of your hundred words.
Beautiful
Beautiful story, magically elliptic, hovering above the delicate reality it depicts.
Love this story and the poignant image it creates for me.
Perfection. Could not be any better.
Wow. Just wow. So much meaning in such few words. I love it. I can picture it.
exellent